How to Stop a Runaway Train
by inkandpaperqwerty
Summary: "Twice a year I gotta listen to him whine about re-qualifying, so I tutor him, and he fails again." Reid knew it wasn't true... and yet he didn't, and the part of him that didn't believe it was much weaker than the part that did. He laughed it off because that was the appropriate thing to do, but nearly twelve hours of anxious obsession later, he has to do something. Post 1:6


Author's Note: I have always thought Reid, at the very least, has generalized anxiety disorder. It wouldn't shock me all that much if he had social anxiety on some level, too. As someone with both, I know that—while it can sometimes take years—you do eventually reach a breaking point. If you're lucky, you have a meltdown with someone you trust. If you're really lucky, you have a meltdown with someone you don't, but you find out they still aren't going to leave. For once, Reid is going to be the luckiest little bugger in the world.

* * *

Reid tossed his phone back and forth between his hands, leg bouncing anxiously. His coffee table and couch—along with the rest of his apartment—blurred in his peripherals as he watched the device fly. He stopped, put the end of the phone to his lips, and then moved to make a new message.

 _Nope._

He started tossing it again, leaning against his knees, heart pounding inside his chest. He caught the phone again and set it to the side, leaning back with a heavy sigh. That turned out to be a subpar idea, and with a wincing, he gingerly prodded his collection of bruises.

 _Focus on it. If you focus, you'll get emotional enough to override logic._

Because he needed that. He couldn't justify sending a message with any logical argument. It was a purely emotional need, and if he hadn't been obsessing over it for the past eleven hours and fifty-one minutes, he would have ignored it. He would have pushed it aside, forced it into the darkest corners of his brain, and he would have dealt with it another day—or not at all, which was preferable. But he couldn't. He just couldn't, and he hated himself for it.

Reid picked up his phone again, but he couldn't sit anymore. He got to his feet and started to pace, a back and forth pattern that quickly turned into an aimless walk around his apartment.

 _Okay. Here we go._

He flipped his phone open and pulled up a blank text, chewing on his lips for a moment before typing.

SMS: Hey, I

He shook his head and erased the words. It sounded too casual, and he needed to have a conversation about something serious. _Skip the greeting._

SMS: I know it sounds weird and makes no sense, but I need to ask you a favor.

Reid scrunched up his nose, shaking his head as he reread the words.

SMS: This is going to sound irrational and juvenile, but I need to ask a favor of you.

Okay, he actually managed to finish a sentence and like the way it turned out.

SMS: Before I say anything else, I want you to know that I don't want you to feel guilty.

That was no good. It implied something had happened that was worthy of guilt. It was pretentious. Not the message he wanted to get across at all.

SMS: Before I say anything else, I want you to know I don't bear any resentment.

Ugh, no. It was all clunky and awkward, too many words involved in relaying a simple thought.

Reid sighed and snapped his phone shut, pressing it to his forehead and continuing to walk around, finding himself in the kitchen. He rubbed at his ribcage again, hissing softly when he struck the more tender bruises. He massaged his chest then, trying to get himself to calm down, to stop panicking about a conversation that hadn't even happened yet.

 _He's going to be irritated. Mad, even. He's going to hate me. He's going to say I don't have what it takes to do this job._ Reid shook his head. _No, that's not right. I just—I just need a little encouragement._ He shook his head again. _Oh, let's be honest. No one else on the team needs encouragement. It's no wonder they treat me like a kid. I act like one, so needy, burdening everyone with my constant drama and insecurities._

Reid folded his arms and put them on his counter, dropping his head down. He was still holding the phone, but he didn't know what to do with it.

 _He's at home with his family. He doesn't want to be bothered by me. Everyone already thinks I'm annoying. My statistics and awkwardness and complete lack of social graces. I can't go whining to someone, making them feel guilty for doing their job when it's my problem to deal with. I need to get over it. If I get over it, there is no problem._

Reid whipped his phone open, entered his contacts list, and dialed before he could think to stop himself. His throat went dry, while his eyes did the exact opposite, but he somehow managed to control his voice by the time it stopped ringing.

"Hotchner."

Reid opened his mouth and spoke steadily, putting a disproportionate amount of effort into keeping his voice perfectly level. "Hi, Hotch. Um, it's—it's Spencer. Reid, I mean." Obviously. "It's—it's me."

"Reid? Is everything alright?" Hotch sounded like he was still half-asleep, but rustling in the background told Reid he was getting up.

"Yeah, everything is fine." Reid wet his lips. "I'm sorry for bothering you, I just… I needed to ask you for a favor."

"Okay." Hotch paused, and when Reid didn't speak right away, he pressed. "Tell me what you need."

"Well, it's not really a need. It's more of a want. It's—it's really stupid, actually, but I, uh—I don't—I don't want you to feel guilty, or anything. Not that you should feel guilty, because you didn't do anything wrong. I don't, uh, I don't think you _should_ feel guilty, it's just—it might happen, and I didn't want it to because my request is really unusual and—"

"Reid." Hotch interrupted, but his tone was soft and steady. "I'm sure I can handle whatever you have to say."

Reid took a deep breath and let it out, taking another before beginning his appeal. "I… I know it's stupid, and… and it's really not your problem… but… I just—" He clenched his teeth, stopping for a moment to get the tears out of his words. "I just need to hear you say… that you didn't mean what you said."

Reid expected Hotch to request some sort of clarification, but after three seconds of silence, Hotch pushed forward.

"Reid, listen to me and hear what I am saying to you."

Reid nodded his head before realizing Hotch couldn't see. "Okay."

"Everything I said to Dowd was a lie. It was all made up because I needed a way to get inside his head. I needed him to think we were the same, that I understood and identified with him. You, Spencer Reid, are an invaluable member of the team—of _my_ team."

Reid bit down on his lip, tears spilling over while he remained ever-silent.

"You are more than a database, Reid. You can empathize with people in a way the rest of us can't. You are the kind of person anyone feels comfortable talking to. You are an exceptional profiler, a great friend, and an all-around good k—" Hotch stopped for just a second. "You are a good man, Reid."

Reid pinched the skin of his forearm with his free hand, breathing silently through his mouth, the combined efforts taking away some of the moisture in his eyes. "Thanks, Hotch. I, uh, I'm sorry I had to wake you."

"Don't apologize." Hotch chuckled softly. "You're not the only one who has laid awake, staring at the ceiling and trying to forget only to find they obsess that much more."

Reid wet his lips again, walking in a circle around the small island in his kitchen before wandering down the hall to his room. "I don't want to be that person, though. I don't want to bother people at four in the morning because I need a pep talk. I don't want to be that—that needy, annoying person. I don't—"

"Reid." Hotch sounded somewhat stern when he spoke. "You are neither needy nor annoying. You need things because you're a human being, and everyone needs things. You annoy people sometimes because that is what people do, especially those they spend a lot of time with. No one annoys me more often than Haley, but no one means as much to me as she does." He laughed softly. "Though I would prefer you kept that between us."

Reid swallowed, unable to get any words past his lips, hands trembling as he walked.

"Reid, if I didn't think my act with Dowd was something to get upset over, I wouldn't have checked on you as soon as we got out of there."

 _No, he checked on you because he knows you're hypersensitive. He was probably trying to avoid a phone call like this, and you called anyway. He said you aren't needy and annoying because he hopes it'll make you stop complaining to him about it._

"Reid?"

Reid cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah—yeah, I'm here."

There was a beat of silence. "You don't sound any better. Is there more?"

 _Now what? If you say yes, you'll annoy him now. If you say no and bring it up later, you'll annoy him then. If you say yes, where do you go from there? Tell him you don't believe him? You think he's trying to placate you and not hurt your feelings? It's not his job to convince you he's not lying. It's your own self-esteem interpreting his words, and your self-esteem isn't his problem. So, tell him no then? That's an awfully short conversation you bothered him at four in the morning for. He'll hang up, shake his head and roll his eyes, and go back to sleep thinking you're too emotional and insecure to be a profiler. Just another day tolerating Reid._

"Reid?"

 _But you already called. You already screwed that up by listening to your feelings, so you can't just undo it. Make a decision. Yes? No? Either way, you bothered Hotch at four in the morning so you could cry on his shoulder, and he is so disappointed in you. You can't change that._

"Reid!"

Reid slammed the phone shut and burst into tears, coming to a stop beside the couch. He sat down, tossing his phone aside and putting his head in his hands.

 _Well, going to work tomorrow is going to be fun, isn't it? You have a few options. You could avoid eye contact all day and make him feel responsible even though this entire thing is your fault. He knows its your fault, too, and that'll only make him angrier. You could confront him in his office and bug him with yet another conversation he doesn't care about. You could pretend nothing happened, but he'll only scrutinize your mental state more._

Reid rubbed his face and let out a frustrated shout, the sound dissolving into more sobs. _Stop. Just stop. Stop thinking. Stop thinking about it. Deal with it tomorrow—_

 _Oh, that's a great idea. Go into a situation that terrifies you, have absolutely no plan or backup plan, and make a complete idiot out of yourself in front of your peers. What if you start crying? They would never look at you the same way again. They would probably kick you off the team._

 _Stop it!_

But it didn't stop. It never stopped. It would continue until his mind and body were too exhausted to care; until his heart was too tired to race and his muscles were too sore to make him shake. He hated it. He hated the fact that it wasn't new, that he knew exactly how the rest of his night was going to go, that despite his foreknowledge he couldn't stop it. He hated that he couldn't just push it aside like he normally did. Every day, he turned those runaway thoughts into fuel—don't cry over it like a baby, Reid, just do better—but some days he couldn't.

 _No, you can, you just don't. If you would just stop being annoying, and needy, and childish, and illogical, and emotional, and selfish, and weak, then it wouldn't be a problem anymore. But no, you'd rather pine after reassurance and validation than fix your own flaws. It's just all about you, isn't it? It's your own fault you feel bad about yourself. You did this, and you want to trouble other people with it? You want to get someone else to fix it for you?_

Reid rubbed his face again and found his cheeks relatively dry. He lifted his head and sniffed, grabbing tissues from the coffee table and blowing his nose.

How long had he been sitting there? It felt like a thirty-second whirlwind, but that couldn't be right if his face was drying already. Maybe… ten minutes? It could have been more. Less. He didn't know exactly what time he called Hotch, so he couldn't—

 _Four in the morning, remember. Maybe even four fifteen. What if Hotch can't fall back asleep, and he's exhausted all day because of you? And you hung up on him._

"Stop." Reid mumbled under his breath, his voice congested and raw. "Stop, please stop… stop… I just want to sleep. I don't want to think anymore." Tears welled up in his eyes, the rampant thoughts fading for no more than a second before surging back. _"Please."_ His voice broke as he pleaded with his own mind to leave him alone.

It didn't.

Reid lay down on the sofa, sighing heavily and trying to think of something—anything—he could to distract himself. He knew he would slip back into his torrential speculation time and time again, and he knew it would be at least another half an hour of agony, but it would come to a stop eventually. It was difficult, but it was science. He had to time his self-distraction so it aligned perfectly with his periodic drops in adrenaline, and then he had to maintain the distraction so he could pass out before the adrenaline shot back up.

It was difficult, but it was possible.

 _I can—_

There was a knock at the door, and Reid startled. His heart skipped a beat before falling back into its frantic pattern, an unusual rhythm that caused a twinge of pain in his chest.

"Reid, it's me. Open the door."

Reid exhaled sharply but stopped before he could sob, his stomach twisting into a thousand knots. _He came all the way out here, and I don't even know what to tell him._ Reid slowly got to his feet and approached the door, wiping his face with his sleeves and hoping he could make himself look at least somewhat presentable in the next five steps. _I just want to sleep. I just want to hide under a pile of blankets and sleep, please. Please._

"Reid."

Reid opened the door before Hotch could knock again, but he couldn't muster the energy necessary to make eye contact. Instead, he stared at Hotch's sweatshirt blankly, the logo going unread.

"May I come in?" Hotch asked after a moment of silence.

Reid nodded absently and took a few steps back, his ability to interact with another human completely shot. Normally, his anxiety micromanaged his social behavior in public but staved off exhaustion until he was home.

 _I mean, I guess I am home._

Hotch stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind him. He didn't say anything. He just stood there. From what Reid could see, he had folded his arms neatly over his chest. He was wearing jeans and black sneakers. Reid found that odd. It was quiet. Hotch inhaled.

"Reid."

Reid kept his eyes on the ground, fighting the urge to scream as his brain tried desperately to run down the same, chaotic path it was so obsessed with.

 _He's standing right in front of you, aren't you going to say someth—I'm tired._

 _What if you start crying again? He'll think even less of you than he alrea—I'm tired._

 _He's waiting for you to ans—I'm tired._

 _You're being ru—I'm tired._

 _What if—I'm tired._

 _I'm tired. I'm tired. I'm tired._

"Reid, look at me."

 _Do what he said or—I'm tired._

 _You're being ch—I'm tired._

Reid jumped when Hotch moved, but there was, of course, no danger. Hotch simply reached out and took a hold of Reid's jaw, forcing the eye contact he had demanded previously.

"Look at me, Reid."

Reid gave a slight nod, blinking rapidly to clear away the tears that were trying to return.

"I meant _nothing_ that I said to Dowd. If there had been any other way to get us out of that situation, I would have taken it in a heartbeat." Hotch spoke in all sincerity, his gaze as unwavering as ever. "You are an incredible young man, Reid. You—"

Reid tried to look down, but Hotch held on and quickly admonished the attempt.

"Don't look away." Hotch paused, taking a few seconds to simply look into Reid's eyes. "You are not me, Reid. You don't have to be the cornerstone for the whole team. You know that, don't you?"

Reid swallowed hard, gave a jerky nod, and tried to look down again.

"Reid." Hotch maintained a firm grip on Reid's jaw. "It's okay to need reassurance."

Reid swallowed again, eyes burning, red flags flying in every direction.

"We do a difficult job, and you are a young man who hasn't been doing it for very long. You killed someone for the first time tonight. It's complicated and frightening." Hotch shook his head slightly, brow creased with something akin to worry. "No one expects you to take every new experience in stride."

Reid tried to lower his head again, and when Hotch stopped him, he finally spoke. "Let me go, Hotch." His voice was thick with tears, very nearly breaking. "Please."

"No." Hotch held him steady. "You don't want to look at me because eye contact means vulnerability. You have no reason to avoid that. Vulnerability is not dangerous with me."

Reid choked out a sob, torn between embarrassment, exhausted defeat, and frustration.

Hotch shook his head slightly. "I'm not getting through to you."

"I'm sorry," Reid choked out.

 _You do not have a script for this conversation, I repeat, you have no frame of reference. You have had no time to prepare yourself. There is no emotional defense tactic on hand. Shut down, I repeat, shut down!_

"Go sit down." Hotch let go of Reid's face and gestured to the couch. "Pick an end and make yourself comfortable."

 _I can do that. I can sit. I can sit down._

Reid ambled numbly over to the couch and did as he was told, vaguely aware of Hotch moving around his kitchen. _There, I sat down. I did something right._ He stared blankly ahead, his brain taking the momentary silence as an opportunity to jumpstart and run again.

 _Okay, let's think fast. There are a few different ways we can go from here, despite the fact that you've already screwed just about everything up._ His brain wandered down a long list of mistakes before snapping back. _Our best option is to put on a brave face, smile, and nod while he talks to us. We know all the right things to say—it's like reverse profiling—and if he thinks it's resolved, he probably won't bring it up again. If we can't manage that, thanks to you and your waterworks, we can manipulate the situation to make it look more like a onetime thing. We can act spacey and exhausted and entirely out of it, and then tomorrow, apologize for tonight while simultaneously letting him know we don't really remember much of what happened. Our third option—_

"Here."

Reid looked up just as Hotch set two steaming cups down on the table. _I've been sitting here long enough for him to make a pot of coffee?_ He reached out and carefully picked up the mug.

"Thanks…"

Hotch nodded in reply and then kicked his shoes off, pulling his feet onto the couch and turning to face Reid. "Talk to me."

Reid took a sip, if only so he didn't have to reply right away, and then shrugged his shoulders. "What do you want me to talk about?"

Hotch gestured to the empty space between them. "How are you feeling right now? What's on your mind? Talk about anything that crosses your mind. We're just two friends conversing over coffee."

Reid stared down into his cup, whispering. "You're my boss, Hotch."

Hotch chuckled softly, and there was a smile in his voice when he spoke. "I would think you already know this, but a boss wouldn't drive to your apartment at four thirty in the morning because he thought he hurt you more than you let on."

Reid blinked a few times. "Sorry."

"You didn't tell me to come here. You didn't even ask, so don't apologize."

"It's still my fault." Reid took another sip, his foot slipping down to the floor so he could bounce his leg. "I shouldn't have called you."

"You absolutely should have. I'm glad you did." Hotch took a drink and set the cup down, leaning back against his half of the couch. "What you shouldn't do is think you know what I think of you. Because you have made it very clear that you do not have an accurate perspective on that."

Reid swallowed and bit his lip. He pulled his leg back onto the couch and curled up slightly, managing to make eye contact on his own for the first time since Hotch arrived. "I don't know what's wrong with me, Hotch."

Hotch simply nodded his head, using silence to encourage further discussion.

"I… I don't…" Reid shook his head and took another drink. He couldn't think of a way to continue, he couldn't find the words to express the way his brain worked. He couldn't figure out exactly what he wanted to make Hotch think about him, and even if he did, he was in no state to calculate the best way to manipulate the situation.

"Reid, look at me."

Reid sniffed and lifted his head.

"You don't have to prove yourself to anyone. Do you know that?"

Reid stiffened, trying to take another drink and finding his hands were too shaky. He set the cup aside and leaned into the back of the couch, his fingers drumming on the cushions rapidly.

 _Yes, we do. We have to make dad regret leaving us behind. We have to take care of mom. We have to take our intellect seriously. Everyone knows you're going to do great things because you're a genius, and we can't let them down._

Reid shook his head slowly, his body trembling from the mixture of anxiety and fatigue. "I can't explain it, Hotch."

Hotch nodded his head slightly, eyes full of understanding. "That's okay. Just say whatever comes to mind."

Reid opened his mouth, shut it again, and then uttered another soft sob. "I can't, Hotch. My brain is completely blank. It's—I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Hotch frowned. "Reid, please stop apologizing."

"Sorry." Reid realized his mistake immediately. "I…"

Hotch took another drink of his coffee and set it aside. "Reid, do you really believe you're annoying and needy? Be honest with me. Is this a spur of the moment thing, or do you genuinely think you have to apologize for every little infraction because we're angry with you?"

"It's… hard to explain. I…" Reid curled up a bit more, screwing his eyes shut and pressing his forehead to his knees. "I do, and I don't. I know, logically, it's highly unlikely that every single person I interact with dislikes my presence. Given all the personality types and the way they intermingle, it's impossible. But… but when I interact with people, I can't wrap my brain around the impossibility of it. The only thing that seems impossible is being a likeable person."

Hotch shifted his weight, his clothes rustling. "You don't think you're a likeable person?"

Reid shook his head. "I think people put up with me because I'm useful. I—I'm just good enough that my abilities outweigh the downsides of having to interact with me. I'm an asset, and I'm intelligent, and I'm a workaholic, but if I can't maintain all of that, then there's no reason for people to put up with me."

"Reid." Hotch sounded physically pained. "Reid… I'm going to ask some questions, and I want you to blurt out the first answer that pops into your head. It doesn't have to be right or true or kind. Even if you know, logically, that it can't be true, just say it. Can you do that for me?"

Reid swallowed hard and nodded, lifting his head and wiping his eyes. "Okay. Yeah, I can do that." His stomach twisted hard. "I think."

Hotch nodded, pressing his lips together for a moment. "Why am I here?"

"It's your responsibility."

"Why are you on my team?"

"Because I'm smart."

"Why does Morgan spend time with you?"

"Because I'm on the team."

"Why does he spend more time with you than anyone else?"

"It lets him fill the alpha male, protector role."

"Why does Gideon care so much for you?"

"He's proud of my accomplishments."

"What would happen if you weren't as smart as you are?"

"Depends how much less."

"What would happen if you were of average intelligence?"

"I would be alone."

"What would happen if you left?"

"Nothing."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing would happen. I would be replaced, and everybody would move on."

Hotch let out a heavy sigh, and Reid bowed his head. His throat was tight, but his eyes weren't all that damp, and his body was still too worn out to respond to his pounding heart. Like he was so high on stimulants that he was having an out-of-body experience.

"Reid, I like you."

Reid's vision blurred, tears flooding his eyes and spilling over in a matter of seconds.

"I like spending time with you. I like having you on my team."

Reid clenched his jaw, silent sobs racking his frame. _No, no, no, you don't understand._

"Reid, why don't you believe me?"

Reid tensed up when he felt Hotch touch him, but he quickly melted into the embrace being offered. Hotch wrapped an arm around Reid's body, using the opposite hand to rub Reid's arm.

"Reid, why don't you believe me?"

Reid shook his head. "I don't know," he sobbed. "I don't know, I don't know. I—" He dragged air into his lungs, stuttering through the inhale. "I'm sorry."

Hotch tightened the hug briefly, his chin resting on top of Reid's head. "Why are you sorry?"

"You came all this way, and—and I can't answer your questions." Reid teetered between inhaling and crying for a moment. "I'm a mess. I'm a mess, and I can't even tell you why."

Hotch sighed. "Oh, Reid." He rubbed Reid's back and then grasped his shoulder again. "There's nothing wrong with that. There's nothing wrong with any of this."

Reid sobbed out the next phrase. "I need t-to grow _up_ , Hotch-ch."

"Well, I don't know how to tell you this, but when you do grow up, you will still cry your eyes out from time to time." Hotch massaged Reid's shoulder as he spoke, and Reid scooted a little closer.

"But I'll do it on—on my own, and I'll h-handle it myself."

"Reid, that's not what you're supposed to shoot for."

Reid screwed his eyes shut and leaned in a little more, grabbing onto Hotch's shirt.

"If someone learns how to break down alone and put themselves back together, it's because unfortunate circumstances have forced them to." Hotch massaged Reid's upper arm and shoulder, not seeming to mind the fact that Reid was trying to bury himself between Hotch and the sofa. "I hope you never get to the point where it's standard for you to 'handle' brokenness alone."

Reid sniffed, and there was a sudden shift in emotion. He was confused. It was frightening, but it was better than any emotion he had experienced in the last twelve hours.

"But you do," Reid squeaked.

Hotch chuckled softly. "I do, but not by choice. For the majority of my life, I simply had to, and it doesn't seem worth it to correct the behavior now because I've learned to manage. I don't want you to learn to manage, Reid. I don't want you to stop smiling. I don't want you to keep everyone at an arm's length like I do."

Reid sat in silence, staring at Hotch's sweatshirt and contemplating the words. His brain would wake him in the morning with a list of reasons why it wasn't true, but for the moment, it was enough. It was enough that he could suppress his adrenaline and fall asleep. It was enough to get him through the rough spot and into the next day. It was enough to help him keep it together.

"Hotch…" Reid couldn't keep his eyes open.

"Shh." Hotch rubbed his arm again. "You're exhausted."

Reid nodded and mumbled a positive answer. "Mhn."

"Thank you for calling, Reid. Thank you for trusting me."

Reid's hand hit the cushion, his body going slack against Hotch's.

"Thank you for letting me be your friend."

Reid heard nothing after that, tumbling headlong into darkness.

It wasn't a fix, but it was enough. For the moment, it was enough.


End file.
